


cheers

by haplesspunk



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Pre- through post-series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haplesspunk/pseuds/haplesspunk
Summary: Five times Harvey and Donna shared the same glass of scotch, and two times they didn't.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	cheers

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, every once in a while I see that gif from PSL (you know, Harvey and Donna drinking from the same glass as if it's the most natural thing in the world) and then this was born. Spanning pre-series/pre-canon and post-series, this is your usual 5 times fic they share the same glass of scotch and one time they didn't. And one time they didn't share the same drink :) (which... wasn't going to be a part of it, but I was talked into leaving it here hahaha)
> 
> The biggest thanks to Amanda for all the Whatsapp stickers and to Elle (mieh) for the feedback. ❤️
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

_one._

He and Donna have stayed working late at the office before, countless times – though it's usually him that is supposed to be working, and she stays just in case he needs her unless she has other commitments, such as an audition or a date.

(They usually just end up chatting and flirting, if he's honest.)

It's one of the rare times he does work; or tries to because a couple of hours in, considering the long day he's had, he's already tired of going through the long pile of files for his current case. He looks over at Donna and has to admit she's doing a much better job than him, even if she worked as many hours as he did that day (or even more, because she always arrives before him). She looks focused and agile as she's going over the papers like she's absolutely capable of staying there for hours. And it's very annoying because it's true.

He averts his eyes to the pile of folders they still have to go through and groans, deciding to keep ignoring it as he turns mindlessly in his chair, spinning a pen around his fingers.

"I could really use a drink right now."

"Aw, that sucks," Donna mutters, her focus still on the lines she's highlighting.

"I'm very close to going to the bar down the street to buy some scotch and coming back later."

"Hmm." She turns a page, still not looking up. "You do that, I'll go home and you can finish this by yourself. Or not, you know, since I doubt you're coming back." She looks up only to smirk at him.

He groans again. "Donna."

"Bring a bottle to keep stashed here."

It's not often he feels stupid, but when he does, it's because of Donna. He could facepalm right now for never having considered such an obvious possibility before but he won't give her the satisfaction. She won't live it down, he knows. They've been through that road before.

Her attention is back at a new file she picked up, but she's smirking again, and he can tell it's because of his lack of an answer. He rolls his eyes and watches her in silence, wondering how she can work so diligently despite his attempts to distract her.

A new idea comes up in his mind. "Cameron keeps a bottle of scotch in his office."

"He does," she says absentmindedly, closing the current folder and picking up another one. Harvey keeps staring at her, waiting for her to take the hint. And she does, looking up with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, no."

"Donna." He gives her a hint of a smile, pleading eyes.

"You know his office is locked, right?"

"You can pick a lock."

Donna narrows her eyes and he knows she's annoyed that important, essential information – like his own cell phone number – he can't retain, but a random fact she shared weeks before he sure remembers. He can't help it if that – or anything regarding her, honestly – sounds much more interesting to him.

"I can't pick a lock," she says, crossing her arms. "I successfully picked a lock once or twice. I probably don't even remember."

"Please, you're Donna." He scoffs, and it's his turn to narrow his eyes at her.. "And come on, it's not like you don't want a drink either."

They stare at each other for what seems like forever. Her resigned sigh tells him she's considering it. He fights to suppress his shit-eating grin.

"If I go get it, do you promise you'll get me out of whatever problem I may get myself into?"

"Of course," he smirks. Yeah, he's definitely not the only one in need of alcohol.

..

She comes back less than 10 minutes later, a glass of scotch filled halfway in her hand. He looks at her indignantly. "Where's the bottle?"

"Yeah, I wasn't bringing the whole bottle for you to finish it out. This is all you're having tonight." She sets the glass right in front of him, sits down, and grabs her highlighter again to get back to work.

He takes a sip and sighs in pleasure to be finally drinking. And it's a good one too; he makes a mental note to ask Cameron for the brand.

He sips again as he watches her for a few seconds. "Here."

"What?" She looks up, confused to see his outstretched hand holding the tumbler.

"You can have some. It isn't fair for you to sit there watching me drink while we go through this." He shrugs.

He can see she's about to retort, probably something along the lines of You wish I was sitting here staring at you when she turns up her nose as she realizes what he's suggesting. He rolls his eyes. "Come on, I'm not gross. Besides you went through the trouble of going there, you should have some too."

She takes the tumbler, stares at the liquid, and takes a sip with a grimace.

He chuckles, grabbing the glass back. "I know you've had scotch before."

"And you know I'm not used to it, but I wasn't going to say no to good alcohol."

_That's my girl_ , he almost says, the words on the tip of his tongue.

He smiles. They keep going back and forth, sorting through files in silence and drinking slowly. He pretends he doesn't look at her every time she drinks again, waiting for her to make faces again. She looks cute, not that he'll tell her.

"I already got your drink, stop staring and get to work. I don't wanna spend the whole night here."

That did seem like a good incentive for him to procrastinate even more, but he smiles as he grabs another file.

_two._

She's lying by his side – they're close, but not touching and she has yet to gather the courage to open her eyes and glance at him after she caught her breath from possibly the best orgasm she's had in a long while.

Not that she's telling him. The man's ego is big enough as it is.

(Not that she doesn't believe he's already onto it.)

Reality is dawning on her and she's actually not looking forward to moving and facing him and whatever excuse he's cooking up to leave and never see her again. She doesn't want to hear it. Not yet. For now, she just wants to enjoy the moment.

Not that her own conscience is letting her stay relaxed for long. Losing herself in thoughts of how she can beat him to the disappointment – what excuses he'll come up with to leave soon and how can she brush them off in ways that won't hurt either of them – she startles when he speaks up.

"I'm thirsty," he mutters and she feels his fingers caressing her thigh. She opens her eyes and lets an involuntary smile come out that turns into a smirk.

"Yeah? Did I tire you out this much?"

"You have no idea," he chuckles, his fingers briefly, lightly squeezing the flesh. "Seriously. You have anything?"

She nods, muttering a yeah that she isn't even sure he heard and gets up, groaning. Her legs are weak. Her back is to him but she just knows he's smirking, the bastard.

"It's not wine, is it?"

"You're my guest, you have to drink whatever I have to offer." She turns to give him a look but whatever it was gets lost as she notices his eyes dropping to her body, unconsciously licking his lips. The same kind of look he sometimes gives her when he thinks she's not watching. She smirks and gives him a show as she walks out, not even bothering to grab a robe.

She comes back with a bottle of scotch and a tumbler to see him with his eyes closed. She swallows at the sight of him unashamedly naked on her bed. He looks good there. She shakes her head to ward off that line of thought.

"You're not falling asleep on me, are you?"

He opens his eyes and the same hungry look is there, although turning surprised when he sees the bottle in her hands.

"That's what dreams are made of."

"What, scotch?"

"Naked Donna and scotch."

"Hmm." She pours a glass, setting the bottle on the nightstand and takes a sip, crawling back into bed to sit next to him. "You've dreamed about me?"

She means it as a flirty joke, but the way his eyes widen slightly tells her he said something he didn't mean to. She thrusts the glass in his line of sight, as a way to spare both of them of whatever lame excuse he is trying to come up with. He drinks and raises his eyebrows.

"This is good actually," he says, the surprise evident in his voice and he glances at the bottle she had put on her nightstand, trying to read the brand. She's glad the small awkward moment has passed.

She grabs the tumbler back. "Okay, I may not have money to buy your favorites but I do have good taste. You think I'd buy crap?"

"Of course not," he says solemnly, and chuckles.

It doesn't happen all that often, but neither is surprised anymore when they share a glass. It's just another little thing they do, like flirting or lying down on train tracks to protect the other.

(Amongst a lot of other little things that culminated to their night.)

He's looking at her with soft eyes and a soft smile, and that's probably the closest to a thank you she'll get for her consideration – not that she tells herself she bought it for him, of course. She had developed a taste for it too. It's just a bonus that it's his preferred drink.

He gets closer to drop a kiss on her lips, coaxing her mouth open with his tongue, tasting the whipped cream they had gorged on just moments before. They stay like that, kissing softly, not looking to start anything else; talking some more about work, about their families, about everything and nothing; more drinks, more kisses until Harvey accidentally spills some scotch between her breasts and decides to clean it with his tongue, and suddenly they don't really care for talking or drinking anymore.

Well, Donna doesn't care for drinking; Harvey wants to drink it off of her. She rolls her eyes, laughing and it's all fun and games until he pours some more on her stomach, letting drops of scotch roll down between her legs as he chases it with his tongue, and her laughs turn to moans.

Harvey switches the empty tumbler in his hand for the forgotten can of whipped cream as they start round two.

_three._

It's been a few months since the other time and they're… As normal as they can be.

It could be worse, though. After their agreement, they're both working hard trying to put their night behind them so they can be able to work together like they used to.

Sometimes it's palpable how hard they're trying – it's awkward and stunted and he's always left feeling dread at the possibility of them never getting back what they had before. He even thinks she's going to say she can't take it anymore and leave. (It leaves him with such a bad taste in his mouth he can't even stand to think about that for too long.)

Other times, it's like their night together never happened. Thankfully, those are becoming more and more frequent.

It's one of those times now.

He's pissed after a long, stressful day that never seems to end as he sits at his desk staring at the New York skyline.

The case is going from bad to worse, thus making an already terrible client seem even more insufferable and causing Jessica to be on his case. Louis seems 10 times more annoying and Harvey swears he's gonna knock his teeth out if he so much as look at his stupid face one more time and he had to cancel a date, because of work. (Not that he cared about the date itself, but he was looking forward to the sex that would definitely, without a doubt come after.)

Needless to say, he was in a mood that would not be improving soon.

One thing he loves is that his and Donna's connection wasn't lost; she is still in tune with his moods, which means it doesn't surprise him when she walks in his office, leaves a document on his table and eyes him for a second. Then she walks to the decanter, pours a glass of scotch, and hands it to him.

"You look like you need it."

He pauses. "Thanks," he mutters. He sips and turns his attention back to the paper she gave him, but after a few seconds, he notices she hasn't moved.

One eyebrow raised, he looks up. "Anything else, Donna?" An edge of irritation in his voice, which doesn't even faze her. Of course.

She huffs, the air moving her bangs a little. He thinks it's adorable, and he feels the corner of his lips tugging up. He should work harder on not thinking of her as adorable. He should also not think of how one simple involuntary move could make his mood get better, even if it's just a little.

"You need to calm down."

"I am calm."

It's her turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Donna –"

"I know it's a tough case and things are going worse than expected but you're too hung up on this." She says her tone soft and her eyes compassionate. She sits in front of him, grabbing the tumbler to take a sip. He realizes that's the first time she's done that since…

"Go home, or go out for a few drinks – didn't you have a date, by the way? – Whatever you do, just forget about this for a few hours."

He lets her commentary on the date he did not mention to her pass as he focuses on his main worries. "Donna. I can lose millions if I lose this case."

"You won't lose," she says it so naturally as she sips his – their – scotch again, so unconcerned that he feels stupid for voicing such ridiculous thoughts. "And I'm not telling you to forget about it forever. Just, clear your head a little. It might even give you a breakthrough."

"Yeah, you're right."

"And you had doubts about that?" She smirks, teasingly and he rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

He stares at her as he drinks and it's one of the few times he lets himself wonder what kind of life he'd have without her, and how close he got to find out. He hopes he never gets close to that feeling again.

(He also wonders if having her working for him is still the best move when they could be… something. Anything. But he knows himself and knows he'd have lost her faster than he could say his own name. She's too valuable for that.)

Her voice brings him out of his thoughts. "Harvey, I know you aren't a person prone to feeling insecure. But I know when you hit a wall and you need something to help you break it."

She has the tumbler in her hands again, finishing the drink as she waits for his answer. He sighs, resigned, dropping his pen and she gives him a little victorious smile.

"Don't push it," he warns, but there's no bite in it.

She gives him an innocent smile. "What? I'm only happy we're leaving at the same time so you can give me a ride, since the restaurant you chose is close to my street – great choice, by the way – and I'm sure you're gonna call this girl and ask if the date is still up."

"Okay, I have to ask. How did you know?"

She shrugs. "How that still shocks you, I'll never know."

He rolls his eyes, getting up to put his desk in order. "Come on, hurry and get your things ready if you want that ride."

She mutters a yes! and leaves his office to pack her bag, and he smiles to himself.

(Hours later, after going to some bar close to his building to have a few drinks – by himself, as he found out he didn't feel like meeting anyone – taking a short walk home and playing some of his favorite music, he gives his case a thought, the first since he left the firm. It was the breakthrough he needed.

He texts her. It worked. Thanks, it says only. She deserves to gloat.)

_four._

She almost doesn't hear the soft knocks on her door, so absorbed by her work that she is (and, if she's honest, not used to having someone knock. Not used to having a door.) But she does, and she looks up, and there he is. Holding a bottle of scotch.

"Hey."

"I'm really liking this new thing where you knock, you know."

He smiles, looking uncharacteristically sheepish and she gives him a confused frown.

"So, what can I do for you?"

"I wanted to officially congratulate you, Chief Operating Officer." He gestures the bottle of scotch in his hands.

"Why, thank you." She smiles and gestures for him to sit on the chair in front of her desk. It's a weird sight if she's honest.

He looks around, then glances at the bottle in his hands again. "But I guess you can't drink it right now because I did not think of bringing glasses," he chuckles.

She laughs as she thinks of the time he did the same thing with Scottie. This makes her think that she won't be around for that kind of emergency anymore, she guesses. She won't be that close to him anymore.

She fights off the thoughts as she picks up the mug she used earlier in the day puts it between them.

"Just pour it here. The glass is just a detail."

He makes a face but does as she says anyway. "Still, you should have proper glasses."

"Wasn't me the one who brought a crappy gift." She shrugs, giving him a teasing lift of her eyebrows as he scowls at her insult of his present. "What are you gonna do without me, huh."

"I guess we're about to find out."

He sounds like he wishes they weren't and how he regrets it a little and, knowing Harvey, that's probably what's going through his head. She's worried about him, she can't help it; her worry is already part of her, integrated with her being. She'll never stop worrying about him.

She was just tired of putting him before her.

"Harvey…"

He shakes his head. "I'll be fine. And this isn't about me, I'm only here to congratulate you."

"Well, in that case." She picks up the mug and toasts it lightly with the bottle in his hands, taking a sip.

"So, how are you settling?"

It's tough. She's feeling a little lost, not used to having that much responsibility in her hands. She's worried about how she'll be perceived, if people are going to consider the professional that she is or if she is going to be seen as a glorified secretary, only. Or worse, as someone who slept her way to her position. She's scared she will fail and bring everyone down in the process.

For some reason, she doesn't tell him any of it.

"It's… I'm still getting used to it, but I think I'll be fine once I get the hang of it all," she says, giving him a convincing smile.

"I'm sure you're going to be knocking it out of the park in no time. There is no one better than you for this." His quiet, sure smile and piercing eyes give her enough encouragement, and she hangs on his words in a way she's never needed to.

"Thanks, Harvey." She sips on her drink, silently offering him the mug. He frowns, unsure about picking it up. "Come on, it's not like you've never done this before. Or are you that annoyed that we aren't drinking from a tumbler?"

He chuckles, opens his mouth, shakes his head briefly and closes it. Picks up the mug to drink.

"Just thought we wouldn't be doing this anymore."

"Is there a reason for that?"

He looks up from the mug, a little alarmed, and only shakes his head.

"Oh, um, no."

She frowns briefly, shakes her head to herself too and turns back to her work, though now that she gave a pause, she feels the fatigue creeping up at her bones and a light pressure at the base of her skull. She barely slept with worry, then arrived earlier than she's used to; she should gather her things to head home and get some well-deserved rest

She hears Harvey putting the mug next to her hand and she picks it up to finish the drink. He glances at his watch, sets his shoulder in a way that says he's getting ready to tell her something.

"So, I'm taking off."

"Oh?" She glances at the clock on her laptop, and while it is a little late for either of them to be at the office, it's not _that_ late, especially for him, especially nowadays.

She won't lie, she's disappointed because he's definitely acting weird, and yet won't tell her what it is. And that only happens –

"Yeah, I…" He coughs, grabbing his phone from his pocket, checking for messages. "I have to go somewhere."

"Okay," she mutters. So, he has a date. Why that is so hard to say, she has no idea, but that's Harvey. "Have fun, whatever it is."

He nods. "Don't spend the whole night here, okay. Go rest."

"Okay. Good night, Harvey."

"Good night, Donna."

_five._

She's glad it's not date night because all she wants right now is to plop down next to her husband and doze off to one of his shitty reality shows, while he threads his fingers through her hair. he smiles to herself as she opens the front door, the sounds of the television so welcome to her ears.

She drags herself to the living room, throwing purse, coat, shoes around; her movements are slow, her sighs sound heavier than usual; Harvey's sympathetic smile greets her as he comes into view, on the couch with a drink in hand, his legs stretched in front of him and feet propped up on the coffee table.

She drops down right next to him, closing her eyes and heaving one more sigh. Wordlessly he wraps his arm around her, pulling her even closer to him.

"Long day?"

"The longest," she breathes, grabbing the glass of scotch in his hands and taking a gulp, shuddering slightly at the burn on her throat. She pretty much drops the glass back on his hands, almost missing it, spilling a little at the force she makes to give him the glass back. He chuckled, raises his eyebrows at the lack of her usual grace; she's really exhausted.

"Already ordered dinner. Pizza okay, right? Figured you wanted something simple from your texts."

He had texted earlier, asking how long she'd take, if she'd want any specific food, or maybe would like to go out. She gave him a curt answer, basically saying she didn't care. (She did feel a little bad afterward, but the good thing about being married to someone she's known for almost 20 years is that he just gets her and her moods and doesn't take it personally.)

Her eyes soften and if she had the energy to move a little she'd kiss him. "You're an angel."

She sighs and closes her eyes and he sips the drink, caressing her hair. Still with her eyes closed, she stretches her hand, and only when he gives her the tumbler she opens her eyes. She takes a sip this time, humming appreciatively.

"Did you ever find it weird that we occasionally shared a drink since… forever?"

"What?" She looks up at him, frowning. She's too tired to get his point because she can only think of the times they drank together and there didn't seem to be anything wrong about that. They were just friends (or… whatever they were) sharing drinks.

"We've always shared a drink."

"Harvey. Is it the fact that I was your secretary? I don't know what's wrong about having drinks together."

He chuckles, dropping a kiss on her hair. "You really are tired, huh? I'm saying, we've always shared one drink. Did you ever find it weird that you, my secretary – or co-worker – occasionally drank from my glass?"

"Ohh," she pauses a little, instinctively finishing the drink in her hands, giving him the glass back. She remembers the first time they did that, probably the only time she was grossed out by the act. "I never really thought about it."

" _You_ never thought about it."

She rolls her eyes. She's too tired and it's too late for all of this.

"I guess I did, in the beginning? But I don't know, we were friends, I'd done arguably more disgusting things with friends in college –"

"Wait. What did you do and why have I never heard of it?"

She smirks. "That's a story for a better, drunken day, honey. Anyway, let me finish." She gives the hand on her shoulder a slap. "Then the other time happened and I'd think 'well, we already slept together, how is this any worse?'"

"Huh," he mutters, watching the empty glass in his hands, passing his fingers through the details. Lost in thought, she feels his other hand caressing her shoulder.

"What?"

"It's weird how we've always been intimate in some way or another and yet –"

"Hey." For the first time since dropping down next to him, she moves, making sure to look at him in the eye.

"We _were_ idiots." She nods, causing him to give her a small smile. "But that brought us to where we are and I wouldn't change anything in our life, including our past. So no use dwelling on it, it's not worth it. We're here, we're married, that's all that matters."

His smile widens to the one that reaches all the way to his eyes, the crinkles deepening and she falls a little more in love with him.

"C'mere," he whispers, pulling her a little closer to give her a peck and she sighs into his lips.

"We were essentially kissing, you know." He starts when they pull apart. "Every time we shared a glass, that was an indirect kiss. We shared cooties before anything else."

"Cooties? Are you five?" She snorts and then she can't stop laughing at him because that was the last thing she expected to come out of his lips.

"Well." He shrugs, laughing with her and giving her the fond, completely in love look she now knows and sees often. She kisses him in earnest then, because she can and she doesn't mind sharing cooties – they've shared a lot more.

She pulls apart, dropping a final kiss on his lips, nodding into the direction of his scotch selection. "Come on, go pour us some more scotch, silly man."

_six._

They're having one of their weekly dates, the first since they found out about the pregnancy and it's like their first date all over again, minus the awkwardness. He can't stop staring at her and how beautiful and glowing she looks and he can't believe that woman is pregnant with his child and that she agreed to marry him and it's all so surreal and he feels like one of these days all that love is gonna spill out of him –

"Harvey?"

"Huh?"

She's smirking over a menu opened in front of her, like she knows exactly what he's thinking about and she's probably right. "You're staring."

"Can't a husband look at his wife and mother of his child?"

She tries to tone it down but she beams at him and damn if she didn't get ten times more beautiful. She rolls her eyes at his silliness.

"Well, the mother of your child is getting pretty hungry, so choose something already so we can order."

They spend the next few minutes discussing dishes until the waiter brings their drinks and takes their order. Harvey sips on his glass of scotch while Donna looks longingly from her water to his tumbler, sighing loudly.

"Changing my mind about this whole pregnancy thing already, you know."

He narrows his eyes and she huffs because he knows he's already being way too protective and that kind of joke gets to him. He can't help it.

"I'm joking." She rolls her eyes. "Pregnancy aside, it was a tough week. I was looking forward to dinner and having a drink with you," she says with a pout.

Harvey slides his hands across the table, caressing hers. "How about we order the most sinful, gooey, disgusting and chocolatey dessert in the menu, instead? We can even take it home so you can gorge on it the way it deserves, with no one else to see you getting your fingers and face dirty," he smirks, his eyes softening as she laughs at him.

"God, I love you." She looks so smitten with him still and sometimes he wonders if that's ever gonna reach an end, but the more time they spend together the more it grows. He never thought he was capable of that.

"Wanna talk about what's been stressing you?"

"Just, I told you we were having some difficulties with the theater's equipment, right?" He nods, and she starts explaining everything that was occurring.

Shortly after they moved to Seattle Donna found a community theater to volunteer in and he loves to see her becoming so involved with theater again. Sadly – for him, since she seems fine with it – she hasn't been acting, but what started as an assistant gig quickly grew into directing. It's nothing big, and they don't do it for money – what they charge goes into the theater to keep it going. But everyone involved in it is very dedicated and loves what they do.

So of course, Donna fit right in. He admits he was worried at first when they moved; Zane Ross didn't seem to be on the same caliber as their New York firm, and while he was ready to make up a position for her if there weren't any available, he was worried about how it'd look in her eyes – would she think it was just a position she got because of her husband?

Thankfully, it all worked out - Zane Ross needed a COO, Donna filled the role as flawlessly as she did before and since it was a smaller firm plus they were on the way to change their routine, Donna was able to pick up hobbies – the community theater being one of them.

He loves how he's able to see her in her element, again. It's so clear that despite all the changes in her life there's still place in her heart for it, and he's so happy she's pursuing it now.

The theater talk turned into hobbies talk, which turned into sports and they talked well into their dinner, and it always marvels Harvey how they're together for most of the day, every day and yet they manage to have things to talk about and have fun and not get tired of each other.

Marrying his best friend was the best decision he ever made.

"Harvey."

He snaps into attention to look at her not so amused face now, and he smiles sheepishly.

"I was staring?"

"Look. I get it you're all emotional about the baby and I love it, I never thought you'd act differently yadda-yadda-yadda, but can you please act less creepy? Just wanna enjoy the evening without you looking at me like I'm made of glass every other minute."

He chuckles, his mirth quite contained because she doesn't really seem to think it's amusing. "I was just thinking about how lucky I am to be married to my best friend. And how I'm gonna raise a child with my best friend. And our child will grow up to know what it is to have loving, united parents and will never doubt our love for each other."

He can see how her face slowly goes from irritated to emotional and, if he had doubts before, now he definitely knows mood swings are a thing.

She shakes her head to control her emotions and bites her bottom lip. She changes her seat to the chair next to him instead of the one across, grabbing him closer to kiss him. Which she usually doesn't do in public, so she must be really emotional.

"Hmm. You taste nice," she mumbles against his lips, opening her mouth to kiss him some more, making it a little deeper.

He's feeling a little light-headed from all the mood changes in such a short time and the kiss. Not that he hates it but he disengages from her, raising an eyebrow.

"Did you know scotch tastes even better on your lips?"

He chuckles, a little amused, and a lot confused and the abrupt change of topic. "Are you hitting on me?"

"As if I'd need to to kiss you."

"Confident, aren't we?"

She gives him a lingering peck. "From now on, you're gonna kiss me whenever you drink scotch."

He sips on his drink and he doesn't even notice he's doing it until she smirks at him. "Okay, first," he raises a finger. "I already do that, because I kiss you all the damn time. And second," he raises another finger. "Why?"

"Remember when you said when we shared a glass we were indirectly kissing? Now I'm indirectly drinking. Actually, I think you should start drinking more wine, for my sake."

"You know how you're always calling me an idiot? I think I'm rubbing off on you," he mutters, still giving her a brief kiss because he is an idiot and a sucker and he will do whatever she asks him to.

_seven._

Harvey wakes up in empty sheets, although her side of the bed was still warm to the touch. He takes a glance at the bedside clock and drops his head back on the pillow with a groan. Too early to be awake but since there's no fun staying in bed without his wife to cuddle or make out with, he doesn't see the point in staying.

He gets up and stretches, going into the bathroom to relieve himself and wash his face – he's not ashamed to admit Donna got him into a basic skincare routine and while he has no interest in using the number of products she does, it feels pretty good and refreshing.

As he leaves the bathroom he goes straight to the dresser to grab his phone, but almost at the same time he puts it down again. He kind of just wants to spend a lazy morning with his wife, without work or depressing news to get in his mood.

Also, he realizes it's been almost 10 minutes since he's been up and he hasn't heard a peep from her.

He leaves their bedroom in a little hurry, suddenly anxious to see Donna. It's always been like that, ever since they got together. Initially, he thought it was making up for lost time, but now he's sure it's just that he'll never get enough of her.

And if there's one thing he misses from his old condo in New York is that as soon as he left the bedroom he'd be able to see her anywhere in the apartment – unlike now, he thinks as he goes through the corridor and stairs that separates the living and dining rooms and the kitchen from the bedrooms; they should've bought a house with a plan similar to the condo. Maybe they should move.

(Thank god he sees Donna before even more absurd thoughts come up. They love that house. It'd make no sense to move now.)

She's sitting at the kitchen counter, book in hands, glasses on her face (and he smiles, he loves it when she wears glasses) and a mug next to her – apparently so engrossed that she doesn't even notice him approaching. He loves her sixth sense when it comes to him, but he loves it all the way more when he can catch her off guard.

He stops by the opposite side at the counter right in front of her and stares for a few seconds, but she doesn't look up. He rolls his eyes, amused as he glances into her mug and sees that the liquid inside is not coffee. He grimaces.

"I don't know what you expected."

Guess he didn't catch her off guard after all.

"Coffee?"

"You know I'm not drinking coffee anymore."

He raises an eyebrow at her. "I know you've been drinking some behind my back."

Donna finally looks up at him, sputtering as he tries to keep the smirk to come upon his lips. She puts a bookmark between pages and closes the book.

"It was decaf," she says finally, giving him an indignant look. "And if it's to drink that poor substitute, I'd rather give it up altogether for the time being."

"You could drink something better than tea though." He makes a face again and moves to her side of the counter, dropping a kiss on her shoulder and playfully pulling a few strands of her hair as he walks away. He's like that, always touching her in one way or another.

"I like my tea. And it's not like my husband was awake to make me breakfast."

She gives him a teasing, innocent smile and his lips tug up at the corners before a worrying thought starts running wild in his mind.

"How long have you been awake? You should've woken me, you know I don't mind." He moves around the kitchen, grabbing all the necessary utensils to make breakfast. "You know I wouldn't let you and our kid go hungry."

"Harvey, wait." She stops him with a hand on his wrist as he walks by, and pulls him closer to stand between her legs. "I'm teasing. I'm not that hungry, baby won't wither away without immediate nourishment and there's something more important right now that you haven't done."

He goes through his mental list of housework he said he'd do – _said_ being the operative word because they both know housework is not his forte, so most of them he keeps putting off – when she tugs him down so his face is on her level.

"Good morning, silly," she whispers against his lips, closing the gap between them. It takes him a millisecond to catch up and he's kissing her in earnest, tasting faintly of tea, which is fine for him since she's sucking his tongue into her mouth, and in his opinion, she could taste like his most hated food as long as she keeps doing that.

As deep as it is they separate to take a breath, though he still gives her small pecks.

"Good morning. Sorry," he whispers back, so close to her he touches her lips with his as he says the words. He's about to start kissing her in earnest again when her stomach rumbles. "You're not that hungry, huh?"

Reluctantly he leaves her to go back to his task of making them breakfast, laughing at her.


End file.
